


These Small Hours (they make our lives)

by LeapAngstily



Series: December Footie Fanfic Giveaway [4]
Category: Football RPF
Genre: Calciopoli, FIFA World Cup 2006, M/M, PWP - Porn with Peerlo, References to Pirlo's book, Right into the feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-11
Updated: 2014-12-11
Packaged: 2018-03-01 02:22:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2756024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeapAngstily/pseuds/LeapAngstily
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The World Cup 2006 becomes the highlight of their careers, but it also marks the time when they both need to make choices that will affect their lives far into the future.</p>
            </blockquote>





	These Small Hours (they make our lives)

**Author's Note:**

> Written for my [December Footie Fanfic Giveaway](http://montosmadman.tumblr.com/post/104190423597). I’m all out of prompts now, so please come over to drop me one?
> 
>  

_”I’m thinking of leaving Milan,” Andrea admits to Fabio on their fifth night in Germany, lying in Fabio’s bed with his head pillowed on the captain’s thighs, “I’m not going down for something I didn’t do, not in a million years.”  
  
Neither of them knows what is going to happen after the World Cup, if their clubs will be relegated or if they will start their season with point reductions. No Champions League seems to be a given if the teams are found guilty, but even that information is shaky, changing day in day out.  
  
“The fans would hate you for it,” Fabio tells him softly, but it is merely a statement, no disapproval in his voice, “You stay, you’ll be their hero – you leave, you’re forever a traitor.”  
  
Fabio is stroking Andrea’s hair gently, and he meets Andrea’s gaze sadly when Andrea looks up at his face. He does not say it, but Andrea knows he has been thinking the same – leaving Juventus, betraying the team and the fans.  
  
“We’re no heroes,” he reminds Fabio quietly and turns his head just a little to press a kiss on his bare knee, “We’re just men, no matter what we do. We’ve got the right to make our own decisions.”  
  
Fabio is silent for a long time, staring into nothingness, his absent-minded strokes on Andrea’s hair never halting, and then he finally says: “Gigi’s staying, even if we go down.”  
  
“It’s his choice,” Andrea retorts defiantly – Gigi is a special kind of man, loyal almost to a fault – “What’s yours?”  
  
“Can’t we just forget about it for now?” Fabio asks as he meets Andrea’s eyes again, and then he leans down to brush their lips together, “Let’s just think about the tournament. The time for decisions comes after.”  
  
Andrea closes his eyes and allows Fabio to explore his mouth with his own, humming his agreement into the kiss.  
  
Soon they will have to make their choices, but Andrea is willing to put it off for a few more hours, days, even weeks— No, if it means keeping that sadness away from Fabio’s eyes, he is willing to wait until the end of the world.  
  
As long as it also means he will have Fabio to himself until that time._  
  
  
  
One would think going first in the penalty shootout of the World Cup final would be nerve-wracking.  
  
One would be right, of course.  
  
However, if you ask Andrea, the worst part is not taking the spot kick – it is what comes after, when you have done all you can, and now all that is left is to have faith in your teammates.  
  
Andrea feels anxious, restless, jittery, when Materazzi takes the spot after him, the excess adrenaline rushing through his body, making it physically impossible to stay still. The ball goes in, and they are a step closer to victory.  
  
He realizes his hands are shaking when Trezeguet fails his kick, the ball bouncing on the line but not going in. Italy takes the lead.  _Italy takes the lead!_  Andrea’s mind is screaming, his heart bounding in his chest, and they are so close. So close.  
  
Fabio is standing in place, his arms crossed over his chest and his eyes fixed on the goal, outwardly a complete opposite of what Andrea is feeling: strong, unmoved, focused.  
  
Andrea knows appearances can be deceiving, which is why he moves to hug Fabio from behind just as Daniele takes the spot. He can feel Fabio’s erratic heartbeat like this, and the way the captain leans into his embrace just a little reveals he is just as nervous as Andrea.  
  
His own body is shivering with suppressed excitement when the ball goes in again, and Andrea knows Fabio must feel it as well. The shaking of his hands is fortunately calming down as he tightens his hold around Fabio’s shoulders, presses his chin against the juncture of his neck and shoulder.  
  
Just a bit more, just a bit more, just a bit more, he keeps repeating in his head as Abidal scores too, sending Gigi into wrong direction.  
  
He cannot stay still anymore when Del Piero puts the ball into net. He releases his hold on Fabio to pump his fist into air, jumping on the balls of his feet, the immediate need to release the energy coursing into his limbs getting too much to bear.  
  
He catches Fabio’s eye when the next Frenchman takes the spot. The captain’s gaze is unwavering, clear, and Andrea almost misses the _pleading_  hidden underneath it – Fabio needs the comfort as much as Andrea needs it.  
  
Which is why Andrea returns to his side, the tight embrace finally calming him down, Fabio’s strong demeanour seeping into him through their bodily contact, but at the same time he can feel Fabio relaxing in his arms.  
  
“One more,” he whispers into Fabio’s ear as Grosso walks towards the penalty area, and at that one moment he is certain that the ball will go in, that they will win this, “Just one more.”  
  
And still he is stunned in disbelief when the ball does go in, a few steps behind to follow Fabio into the celebrations. They won.  _They won!_  Italy is the World Champion!  
  
At that moment, all the earlier stress and pressure feel irrelevant: this is their victory, and whatever happens after this cannot take it away.  
  
  
  
 _Fabio pushes Andrea against the closest wall as soon as they close the door behind them, catching his lips in a scorching kiss: deep, passionate, desperate, and everything Andrea could ever hope for._  
  
 _They are both a bit tipsy – drunk on the victory and on the champagne someone had delivered into the dressing room after the match, but also on each other, because they have been too engrossed with the celebrations, with the team, with the fans and the media, to take time for themselves._  
  
 _Fabio is tugging on Andrea’s belt hurriedly, blindly, refusing to break the kiss even when he fumbles on the buckle. It takes him three tries before he manages to pull the belt away and additional two before he finally pushes Andrea’s pants down his legs._  
  
 _Andrea laughs against Fabio’s lips as he kicks the pants off completely, pulling forcefully on Fabio’s shirt until the buttons pop open and he can push it off his shoulders, revealing the soft, intoxicating skin underneath._  
  
 _“We did it. We fucking did it,” Fabio gasps between the kisses, his lips fumbling on Andrea’s, brushing on the side of his mouth, on his cheek, on his jaw, before he finally finds the lips again, meeting Andrea’s open mouth with his own._  
  
 _They leave a line of clothes on the floor when Andrea finally manages to manoeuvre them towards the bed, walking backwards, pulling Fabio along with him because the captain is too far gone to think straight anymore._  
  
 _“I want you,” he tells Fabio firmly as he climbs onto the bed, caressing the broad chest slowly, brushing his fingers against his nipples before moving lower, admiring the flat stomach, finding the thin line of hair going down from his navel, “Be mine, captain.”_  
  
 _“Always,” Fabio answers breathlessly, kissing Andrea again when the fingers finally find his erection, wrapping around it tightly._  
  
 _Fabio pushes Andrea down to the bed, climbing over him, taking the control of the situation. Andrea lets him do it, even though he knows he could drive Fabio mad if he wanted to. Tonight is Fabio’s – tonight he can have Andrea all for himself. Because he is Andrea’s no matter what._  
  
 _The slicked fingers inside him hurt, but only slightly, only for a moment. Andrea wraps his legs around Fabio’s waist to keep him close, and Fabio answers by kissing his neck, his warm breath caressing the sensitive skin, even as he continues preparing Andrea slowly, almost painfully slow._  
  
 _“You’re mine,” Fabio tells him as he rolls the condom over his erection, “My world champion. Mine.”_  
  
 _Andrea throws his head back and laughs, a laugh that turns into a breathless moan when Fabio enters him, the brief burn upon the entry forgotten fast because suddenly Fabio is close, so close, and it is everything Andrea has ever wanted._  
  
 _They are one, Fabio and him. They came to Germany together and they will leave together, as world champions._  
  
 _“Faster,” he moans into Fabio’s ear, but at the same time he is clinging to him too tightly, making it hard for Fabio to move, to pull away even if it is only so he can push back in, “Don’t stop. Never stop, Fabio, my Fabio.”_  
  
 _But despite his words, the climax comes too fast, the waves of pleasure washing over Andrea when Fabio takes his cock into his hand, jerking him off until the orgasm hits him, his whole body shaking against Fabio’s, his insides clenching around him._  
  
 _Fabio thrusts into him a few more times before he stills, trying to hide his loud groan against Andrea’s neck._  
  
 _And then it is over, Fabio pulling out of him reluctantly, removing the condom, curling up on the bed next to Andrea, his arm thrown over his waist lazily. He is pressing gentle kisses into Andrea’s hair, breathing in his scent._  
  
 _They stay silent for a long while, but the magic is broken now, their borrowed time finally coming to an end._  
  
 _“Seems like Juve’s going down,” Fabio finally whispers, nibbling the shell of Andrea’s ear between the words, “I’m thinking of going to Real, with Capello.”_  
  
 _Andrea has an offer as well. He wants to take it. He wants to go to Madrid with Fabio._  
  
 _“Will you come with me?” Fabio asks quietly, and it sounds pleading, begging, desperate, “We could be together. It could be perfect.”_  
  
 _Andrea wants to go. He wants to tell Fabio he is going. He wants to make the dream come true._  
  
 _“I don’t know,” he says instead and takes Fabio’s hand into his own, brings it up to his lips gently, “I don’t know, Fabio. Maybe. But I don’t know.”_  
  
 _Fabio does not push it, he just kisses Andrea’s hair again._  
  
 _Andrea wishes he would._


End file.
